You might ask, “Why do I help the Vaquita?”
And my answer is, “Why wouldn’t I?”
I cannot force myself to think of a world without Vaquita.
They have helped shape much of my young life, from the early online research to now.
They have inspired me to do things I never thought were possible—or had the courage to do.
They have given me the confidence to stand up and make a difference in this dying world.
They have presented me with endless ideas for poems, books, and artwork.
They have saved me with the knowledge that I am saving them, and they still have a chance.
The Vaquita has given me so much, and now it is my turn to give back to them.
I know the day the Vaquita dies will make me want to do the same.
It is this fear of loss that has pushed me for years to make a change.
And you may ask, “Why save the Vaquita?”
And my answer will always be, “Why not?”
Sun made its way
to her back,
Casting a morphing shadow
on the powdery sand.
Bubbles slipped out of her lungs,
dancing to the swirling surface.
She rose up
toward the beckoning sun.
Her blowhole inhaled
the salty air,
Refilling her lungs
like a balloon.
She noticed a ship
in the distance.
Binoculars and cameras faced her,
She floated in glory,
admired by the many people.
She was beautiful.
A fisherman’s name was Pip.
He owned a beautiful ship.
He wasn’t illegal,
He caught nary a seagull.
Until today. Oh Pip.
The boat rocked with every rolling current
As I slowly fed my net into the swirling aqua sea.
I watched as the floats drifted off,
Knowing the next time I would touch them,
I would be hauling hundreds of shrimp onto this deck.
I leaned against the cabin window,
I thought of my beautiful family:
My wife and son.
This was for them.
A large mob of gulls swarmed around the boat:
There must have been something in the water.
Spitting tobacco overboard, I began to pull in the net.
Inch by inch,
Foot by foot.
It was too late.
She was already gone.
A dead Vaquita lay mangled in the mesh,
Lifeless and dripping in blood from the lacerations.
I sat down on the deck and began to cry.
In bamboo forests Pandas dwell.
They’re shy and hidden, but we know them well.
Anglerfish live undersea in glory.
They’re rarely seen, but strangely, same story.
Why don’t people know about the Vaquita?
Because few of us have gotten to meet ‘er.
The fact is, though, we’ll never get to see one
Unless we immediately start to save ’em.
Let’s not wait another night:
Click the link to Cetos, on the right.→
A vision, a ghost.
The Vaquita is hidden,
Never to be found.
Or is that silver fog that
Frequents the water’s surface
A lone Vaquita?
Surely it cannot be so.
For years ago we
Wiped the species from the Earth.
But now it is too late. Or is it?